Midsummer Evening
Of course you come to listen.
My tales tell your secrets,
scryed from vivid ancient crystal
missives.
You must remember
Spring day walking
along a rocky roadside,
sandy hair, gritty eyes
awash
in silent reverie.
Song singing hallelujahs,
brilliant paranoias.
Sprinting across,
small images.
Listless children wonder:
"Why does no one let us play?"
A world of sullen children
overdue for naps and coddling.
It can't be a secret
if nobody's listening.
Blueberry jam at teatime.
Places in your mind
will answer.
Midsummer Evening
Float of cool jazz
Pop of sparkling wine
My own little garden party
'midst the blossoms of my mind.
Back from the rabbit hole.
Back from New York City, Boston,
Detroit, LA ...
from every day uploading another
grind.
Finding time to play, haunted
by lazy memories
exhorting starlight.
Midsummer twilight,
fairytales brought back from sleep.
No longer keeper of my brethren's terrors,
I don mischievous costume,
step out as power, glory,
love gently, like a summer evening's rain
lays boon to countryside,
dandelions and clover.
Generous prophets whisper
bounty of cyclical stories,
delectable, potent, wise
in the ways of demons,
oracles, gypsy Queens.
Escape, they say, into sacred muse-ways.
Every day a new day
stands ground against a grind
ever more distant.
Inciting sound, opening vistas
vastly
flowering.